


When I See You (I Want To Again)

by bicroft



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: The dating profile is all Nate’s fault.





	When I See You (I Want To Again)

**Author's Note:**

> Me, wanting to write a Waitress AU for SidGeno for months, and then seeing the first prompt for Fluff Fest is baking: It's Fate (tm)
> 
> this sort of morphed from being a true waitress au, but!!!! I still love it, and hope y'all do, too!
> 
> title taken from "I Love You Like A Table" !!!

The dating profile is all Nate’s fault.

Or- it isn’t _all_ Nate’s fault. Blaming everything on Nate isn’t fair, but Sid isn’t willing to completely shoulder the blame himself. It’s Nate, and it’s Brad, and it’s his own very stupid, lonely heart coupled with his big, stupid mouth, and it’s probably mostly the bottle of cheap wine that they both gently bullied him into indulging in with them after they closed up the diner for the day.

“You can’t have _never_ dated,” Nate had said, wide eyed after Sid admitted it. “You’re- I mean, yeah, I’ve never seen someone get so intense about pie filling, but like… you can’t have _never_ dated.”

“I haven’t,” Sid had replied, a little mournful, frowning down at the glass in his hand. “I’ve never- I had hockey, in school, and then after that… it’s- it’s hard, you know? A lot of things to think about, a lot to… understand.”

“You’ve got a good face, though,” Brad said. He was a bit more drunk than either of them, and Sid wasn’t sure if it was because he’d taken control of the bottle, or just because he was as tiny, tiny man. He giggled a little at the thought.

“It’s just a face,” he said, covering the giggle with a hand. “I don’t- there’s too many variables in dating. I can’t.”

“But, you want to,” Nate said, like it was that simple. “And you’re a good guy, any- dude. Dude, any dude would be _lucky_ to have you. That’s like… _unlimited access to your pies_.”

“Yeah, fuck dating, I’d _marry_ you for your pies,” Brad said.

“You’re already married,” Sid pointed out. “And, just because _you’d_ start a riot over a pie, it doesn’t mean anyone else would.”

“Everyone in town would,” Brad said.

“What about online dating?” Nate suggested- which, really, is why it’s all his fault.

“I’ve… never thought about it,” Sid said carefully, brow furrowing.

“Oh, we’re gonna fix this right now!” Nate said, standing and making grabby hands at Sid. “Where’s your computer, dude?”

Sid frowned. “It’s- it’s in the kitchen, probably, but I really don’t think that this is a good idea.”

“It’s a fucking awesome idea!” Nate called, already rushing to the kitchen and skidding back out with Sid’s laptop, flopping down onto the couch next to him.

If you asked him the morning after- or, hell, maybe even a minute or two after- Sid couldn’t tell you what he said to all the questions Nate asked him, but at the end of it, he had a profile on some site or another, and he thought that that would be that.

And, it was that, until he was working on a cherry pie a few days later before the diner opened, and he heard, in rapid succession, Nate’s phone ping, and then Nate himself gasp. “Your profile got a message!” Nate said, sliding up beside Sid.

“My what?” Sid asked, barely looking up from the pie. The lattice was _almost_ perfect, if he just pushed it a little bit that way-

“You’re _dating profile_? Y’know, the answer to your boyfriend problem?” Nate nudged him, and made Sid push the lattice the _complete_ wrong way.

“I’m _working,_ cut it out,” Sid said, elbowing him back before he paused, blinked, and stopped. “It got a message?”

“Yeah, from this- okay, yeah.” Nate whistled. “Ev-gee-nee?”

“Why are _you_ getting messages from _my_ profile?” Sid asked, going back to the pie now, because he really, really didn’t have time to be thinking about things like this.

“Because I knew that if I set it up to go to _your_ email, you’d never check it.” Nate said, and he had a point. He pushed himself up onto the counter, and Sid would’ve hit him with a spoon, but there wasn’t one within reach. “He seems cool. I’m gonna set you guys up a date.”

“You are absolutely _not_ going to do that,” Sid spluttered, looking up at him, and trying to snatch the phone away. “Jesus, Nate, are you kidding me?”

“He seems _nice_ ,” Nate said, leaning out of Sid’s reach. “He’s clean looking, and like, half of his pictures are of him with animals. Totally sweet.”

“Pictures can be misleading,” Sid said. “He could be- some kind of… criminal, or a psychopath, or just a _douchebag_. I don’t want to take that chance.”

“ _Or_ , he could be absolutely _perfect_ for you,” Nate said, jumping off the of the counter and walking away. “And, that’s _worth_ it. Here- I’ll say you can only be there for, like, twenty minutes. You can just go and scope him out, and if he turns out to be a weirdo or an asshole, you can ditch and come back to work, and we’ll try again.”

“We will _not_ try again,” Sid said, and Nate sighed.

“You’re _so_ fucking bad at putting yourself out there,” he said. “Fine. Fine, we won’t try again. If this goes wrong, on my life, I’ll leave you alone about dating, and leave you to life your life with just your pies and your DVR full of Golden Girl reruns.”

“It’s a good show to fall asleep to, fuck off,” Sid said, but, he knew he’d already lost the battle of not going on the date at all. It was just twenty minutes- he could do twenty minutes.

* * *

 

As the day went on, it became increasingly clear to Sid that he could _not_ do twenty minutes.

He’d already stress baked enough pies that Brad had started looking concerned- which was… saying something, considering how much Sid baked regularly. There was never any dearth of variety when it came to desserts at the diner, that was for certain.

“You should take one with you,” Brad suggested. “A pie, I mean. For your date.”

“It’s a meeting, not a date,” Sid said.

Brad rolled his eyes. “To your ‘meeting’, then,” he said, and Sid flipped him off for the scare quotes. “Take a pie. I know everyone that comes in here always wants a slice, but there is no way in hell we’re going to need six apple pies, Sid.”

“I mean,” Sid said, but, he relented. There was never a bad time for pie, anyway- and, that was a good indicator of whether or not the guy was going to be worth seeing again or not. Anyone who didn’t like pie wasn’t a person Sid could associate with.

Nate had set up the date- the _meeting_ at a place a few blocks away, and he and Brad had kicked Sid out almost immediately after the diner closed for the day, promising to clean up and make sure he called later. “If he’s a creep, text the word and we’ll kick his ass,” Brad said, and Sid smiled, nodded, and didn’t bother pointing out that he could probably just beat the dude up on his own.

He was fifteen minutes early, and the second he sat down outside the little café, he felt out of place; there were couples all around him, talking and laughing and looking so, so in love, and Sid- Sid had never really _gotten_ love, if he was honest. He liked to quantify things, liked to be able to hold it in his hands, or see it with his eyes rather than feel it in his gut. Feelings were too unpredictable, too wild, too easy to lose control of and let them ruin everything.

It’d happened with hockey. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Still, he sat, and he waited. He tried not to fidget as he politely told the waitress that came up to him that, no, he didn’t want to order yet, he was just waiting for someone, and he was absolutely at his wits end when a man came up to the table and cleared his throat. “You… Sid?” the man asked, looking a bit hopeful.

Sid just gaped, and blinked, because- _wow_. “My name’s Sid,” he spluttered. “I mean- that’s me. I’m Sid.”

The man’s face immediately broadened into the widest, brightest smile Sid had ever seen, and he pulled out the chair to take a seat across from Sid. “I’m Evgeni,” he said. “Good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too,” Sid said, though he probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he said it.

Evgeni was- handsome. Not Hollywood handsome, but- Hallmark handsome. His eyes were sleepy but kind, and his smile was inviting, and he was big enough that Sid could tell he worked out, but skinny enough that he had the immediate reflex to offer him a meal. “Oh!”

Sid didn’t realize he’d said that aloud until Evgeni looked startled, and he felt himself go red. “I, uh,” he said, reaching for the covered container he’d brought and pushing it towards Evgeni. “I- I made a few too many pies at work today, so. I thought it’d be… nice if I brought you one.”

Evgeni’s face lit up again, and he took the container, stowing it under his chair. “Most sweet of you,” he said, which didn’t do anything to help Sid’s flush.

Evgeni was much better at keeping a conversation going than Sid was, and near the end of their twenty minutes, Sid was surprise to find that he was almost having a good time. It was easy to get swept away in the animated way Evgeni- Geno, he’d told Sid to call him- told stories, the loud, booming way he laughed at the few meek jokes Sid was able to get across that made Sid laugh hard enough that he honked- and, Geno looked _endeared_ by the honking, instead of taken aback.

As he did with all good things, though, Sid had to go and fuck it up. One second, they were chatting, and Sid had finally worked up the courage to tell a story of his own, gesturing animatedly, and the next, Geno’s coffee was in his lap. “Oh my god,” Sid said. “Oh my god, I’m so- I’m so sorry.”

“Is fine!” Geno said quickly, waving him off even as he was very clearly wincing in pain. “I’m just- go to bathroom to clean up.”

The second Evgeni was out of sight, Sid put his head in his hands. This- this was why dating was a bad idea, why _feelings_ were a bad idea. In any normal situation, he would’ve been able to control his limbs- control _himself_ , keep from getting excited, or flustered.

It was- probably better if he didn’t do this again.

He pulled out his phone, and called Nate.

“Your twenty minutes aren’t up,” Nate said, foregoing a greeting. “Is something up?”

“I need an out,” Sid said quickly.

“Got it,” Nate said. “Is he a creep? Do I need to kick some ass?”

“No, he’s wonderful,” Sid said. “I just- can’t.”

“Sid-”

Before Nate could get out the rest of his protest, Geno started back through the door, and Sid cut him off. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can be there. See you in a little bit, Nate.”

“Sid, c’mon man, you can’t-”

“Sorry,” Sid said, hanging up on Nate before he could finish his sentence and frowning at Geno. “One of my friends from work just called, something’s up with the ovens back at the diner; I’ve got to go make sure he doesn’t set the whole place on fire.”

“Oh,” Geno said, and the short note of sadness in his voice made Sid feel a _little_ guilty about leaving, but, not guilty enough that he’d take it back and stay. He needed to get out of there right now. “I’m- talk to you later, then, yes?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Sid said, flashing a smile that he hoped didn’t come off as too fake. Now he felt _really_ bad; Geno was nice. But, because he was nice, he probably deserved a hell of a lot better than Sid.

He didn’t check his phone again until he was home, and there was a series of increasingly frantic texts from Nate waiting for him.

 _Sid what the fuck dude_  
Did you hang up on me?  
What’s up are you good?  
You can’t keep being afraid of love man  
Or was he just super gross and you didn’t want to say  
Sid come on  
Call me when you’re safe okay? 

Sid frowned at his phone, and set it aside for the moment. He’d text Nate back- he’d _have_ to, or he knew he’d be breaking down his door in an hour or so- but, for right now, he just needed to refocus.

Before he got hurt, and everything changed, Sid would go skating at times like this- but, there wasn’t a rink anywhere in town, and so that left Sid with his kitchen, and the only other thing he was good at.

He ended up getting a bit too involved in the pie making process, and that was how Nate found him when he came over- he used the spare key, at least, instead of actually breaking down Sid’s door like he thought he was going to. He frowned at Sid, and took in the state of his kitchen, expression slowly morphing from confused to concerned. “Shit, man, I thought you said he was _nice_?”

Sid frowned at him. “He was,” he said.

“You’re making a _blueberry_ , though,” Nate said. “The last time you did that, you had like… a four-hour phone call with your dad.”

And- well, that was true. “He was just-” Sid said, trailing off with a sigh. “He was too good, y’know?”

“ _Shit_ , Sid,” Nate sighed, and Sid hadn’t even been aware he had _needed_ a hug until Nate hugged him.

“I’m covered in flour right now,” he said, voice muffled in Nate’s shoulder.

“Don’t care,” Nate said. “I’ve seen you in worse states, man, bring it in.”

Sid didn’t reply, but he did actually hug Nate back, and close his eyes. “I told you it was a bad idea,” he said, and he _hated_ that he sounded like he was going to cry. He must have not had a hug in longer than he’d thought.

“Yeah, buddy, I know,” Nate hummed. “We won’t do it again, yeah? I’ll take down the profile, and we can forget it happened.”

“Thank you,” Sid croaked, and they just stood there for a long while before he pulled away, and scrubbed the tears he hadn’t even known were falling from his eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna finish this pie, and you’re gonna sit here, and eat it with me so I don’t eat the whole thing myself. Deal?”

“Deal,” Nate said, and that right there was why he was Sid’s best friend.

By the time he started to nod off on the couch, Sid hadn’t completely forgotten Geno, or how warm his laugh was, but was able to compartmentalize it enough that it only just barely hurt. It had just been another failed experiment in love; he wasn’t sure why he’d thought it might’ve ended another way. It was better like this. Sid was in control of his life, and how he felt, and Geno could find someone who could love him as much as he seemed to love the world.

It was simplier, that way, and better, which was why Sid really shouldn’t have been surprised when it didn’t last, and he walked out from the kitchen one day to find Geno sitting at the counter, menu in hand.

He was just about to turn heel, head back into the kitchen, and hide there until he left, but Geno caught his eye and smiled, and, god, Sid was absolute fucking finished. He took a deep breath, and made his way over, pulling out his pad. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m was hoping this was place you’re work,” Geno said, and when Sid frowned at him, he flushed. “Sorry, that’s- sound like I’m stalk you, and I’m not. Or, not trying to, I’m just- want to return to you.” He ducked his head under the table for a second, and picked up a covered dish- the covered dish that Sid had given him. When he handed it back, it didn’t feel empty, and when Sid lifted the lid, there were- cookies? They might have been cookies, Sid couldn’t tell; they were round, and raised, and smelled like honey.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s- thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

“My mama tell me otherwise, if she’s hear about it,” Geno said. “Always give back food, when someone’s give to you. And, it was probably best pie I’m ever have in my life, so, I’m maybe want to show off a little, too.”

“Well,” Sid said, sure he was flushing now. “That’s- thank you.”

“I’m not know where to talk to you, because- not have numbers,” Geno said. “But… I just. Also want to see you again, because talk to you was very nice, so. Wondering if I’m can take you to dinner?”

“Oh,” Sid said. “I- uh. I’m not really-” Words had never been his strong suit, and he could already see Geno’s face falling- _fuck_. No, he didn’t want to make him feel bad, he just- “I don’t date,” he said. “I- can’t date, really. It’s… it’s complicated.”

“Oh,” Geno said. “That’s- is okay, I’m understand.”

Sid frowned. “Do you?”

“I’m- maybe not, because you’re not explain, but not have to,” Geno said. “If you’re not want to date, we’re not date. But- would like to be friends? Hang out. You’re seem nice, and I’m… I’m not have a lot of friends, around here.”

God. Sid had never been so sure that someone was too good for him in his life, but he smiled all the same, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I… friends. Friends is good.”

He and Geno traded numbers, and he even bought a few slices of pecan pie to take home. Sid didn’t think he’d smiled this much at work in _ages_. This friendship was probably doomed to leave at least one of them a little hurting, but for now, Sid was happy, and he could at least keep a little bit of Geno’s laugh in his life.

* * *

 

Geno was an even more perfect person that Sid could have imagined.

He was sweet, and thoughtful, and _fuck_ , could he bake. Not pies or cakes, but anything smaller- cookies, cupcakes- he could dazzle with. And, almost just as importantly, Geno liked hockey. More thank liked it; he knew it well, and could talk intelligently about it for hours.

It only took a month for Sid to realize that he was probably, definitely in love with Geno, and that this was a horrible, terrible thing.

Of course, though, he had to realize this when Geno was in the same room as him. They were curled up on opposite ends of the couch watching the Food Network- one of those cake competitions shows that popped up here and there that Geno seemed to be absolutely in love with. Sid had lost the plot somewhere along the way, and had just started watching Geno’s face and listening to his bitchy critiques, but now he was just kind of _staring_ , because holy shit. Holy shit, he was in _love_ with this man.

“Sid?”

Geno had turned away from the show and caught Sid staring, and Sid wanted dearly to make any kind of excuse he could, but when he opened his mouth, he couldn’t seem to make anything come out of it. Geno frowned. “Are you- something on my face?”

“I-” Sid said, shaking his head. “I- sorry. Sorry, I just. Thought of something.”

“Something bad?” Geno asked, and it was all Sid could to do close his mouth and shake his head again.

“Something- scary, but. Good, I think,” Sid said after a pause. “Something really, really good.”

Geno’s frown was at least more confused than concerned, now. “What is it?”

“I think I’m-” Sid made a frustrated noise, because saying ‘I think I’m in love with you’ was so _much_ , too much- so, instead, he just leaned forward, and kissed him.

It took a second of Geno not kissing back for him to realize that maybe, just maybe this wasn’t the _best_ way to go about things- but, after that one second, Geno seemed to get with the program, and Sid couldn’t make himself think about anything else.

“I- sorry,” he said when he pulled back. “There was… probably a better way to deal with that.”

“I think that’s best way to deal with everything, always,” Geno said, grinning, and sounding a little dazed. “Is… is that what you’re thinking about?”

“I was thinking that I might- have feelings, for you,” Sid said, a soft smile of his own spreading across his face. “So. Yeah.”

Geno laughed, tugging Sid into his side and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Is… means you’ll let me take you on a date? Real one.”

“Yeah,” Sid said. “I- yeah.” He was _absolutely_ going to ruin it, at some point or another, but. Maybe Geno wouldn’t care too much, and either way, it was worth the chance.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @sidsknees!!!! <3


End file.
